


Muffin Top Party

by gotfanfiction



Series: Baked With Love [1]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Bakery and Coffee Shop, Ciri Is Amused, Flirting, Fluff, Geralt is tired, Jaskier is thirsty, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-30
Updated: 2020-07-30
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:07:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25614064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gotfanfiction/pseuds/gotfanfiction
Summary: Only one customer could make Ciri snicker that loudly, and Geralt braced himself to face Jaskier
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Baked With Love [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1856662
Comments: 20
Kudos: 155
Collections: The Modern Witcher AU Collection





	Muffin Top Party

**Author's Note:**

> hiiiiii this here is a very late gift to @ohjaskier on twitter I hope you like it I baked it with love <333

Despite his general surliness and poor people skills, Geralt usually did enjoy his job. He owned the bakery/cafe, he set his own schedule, hired people he knew could run this place if he got hit by a truck in a freak accident. 

But the early morning rushes pushed his patience in a way few other things did. And usually, he had Yen to take care of customers while he hid in the back, baking for the afternoon crowd. She, however, was on vacation, terrifying pool attendants somewhere tropical, abandoning him to the hordes of rude businessmen and harried mothers.

If one more person snapped their fingers at him, he was going to start  _ breaking _ fingers.

He flicked a glance at the clock next to the menu, such as it was, and sent up a fervent prayer that the end would soon be in sight. 

**--**

Geralt wiped the counter down after the last customer finished paying and left, a woman who'd spent the whole transaction flirting with him, which was always,  _ always _ awkward as hell. The few regulars sitting at the tables cringed in sympathy when she swanned out the door, which helped lift his mood a bit. 

He tossed the slip of paper she'd left in the tip jar into the trash. Gods, he did not need this. And of course, she hadn’t left an actual tip. Not surprising. She probably considered her number tip enough. 

Ciri popped her head out of the kitchen, flour in clumped streaks across her face. It was adorable, but he really couldn’t understand how a person as smart and capable as his daughter was so messy a baker. She jerked her chin in a nod right as the bell over the door jingled. A wink and she was gone, back to making croissants and muffins and laughing at her father’s misery.

Only one customer could make Ciri snicker that loudly, and Geralt braced himself to face Jaskier, and whatever sanity destroying outfit he was wearing this particular morning. This kid was going to kill him one of these days.

Jaskier was, of course, grinning in delight, as if seeing Geralt covered in syrup and hours old coffee stains was the best thing in the world, and  _ good lord, he was in neon pink crop top today, Geralt was  _ so _ fucking  _ fucked _.  _

He was almost completely sure that a man as tall as Jaskier shouldn’t be allowed to walk around wearing shorts that short. It took herculean effort not to just stand there like a moron and just gape at those legs. What had he done to deserve this?

Jaskier did that thing he did, one of many things that he did that shook the screws holding Geralt’s psyche together loose, where he slowly blinked as he placed his usual order, sucking on his lower lip like he was considering getting something besides a blueberry muffin and the largest, blackest coffee they served. He paid, tipped generously, and then pranced, honest to god  _ pranced like a baby deer _ , over to where they kept the sugar and straws, somehow managing to get his shirt to ride up higher.

If Geralt saw a nipple today he was going to just quit and live in the woods where young men with questionable taste in men and clothes wouldn’t be able to  _ haunt his every waking and sleeping moment. _

He went back to cleaning, taking care of the occasional customer, keeping an eye on Jaskier the whole time, who definitely knew he was being watched, because no human being willing sat in a small chair with their legs spread like that for long periods of time. It was a good thing Ciri was in the kitchen, laughing at him behind his back, instead of out here, laughing at him to his face. 

No respect for her elders. 

Geralt sighed in relief when Triss arrived, eyes bright with amusement at the scene she walked in on, but punctual as usual. He could almost taste freedom, freedom from rude customers to whatever the fuck the situtation with Jaskier was, but fate, as always, was firmly against him, and the moment he finished the shift change with Triss Jaskier was there, smiling at him.

“So, now that you aren’t busy, I was hoping you and I could have a proper chat, just us, no business,” Jaskier’s smile slid into a smirk. “Maybe somewhere a smidge more private? You’ve got an apartment upstairs, don’t you?”

Geralt avoided eye contact like the life long introvert he was. “I’m always busy. I can’t talk right now, and it isn’t like we’ll be alone.” If he had a dollar for how many times he’s used Ciri as an excuse to get out of social interactions he’d be the wealthiest man on the planet.

“Actually,”  _ Oh god, oh no, she’s turned against me at last _ , “Dad, I was going to spend some time with my friend from Econ, and we’re thinking about making a sleepover of it.” Ciri grinned the same grin she used on people who hit on her while she was working, which Yen affectionately referred to as her ‘ _ I will fucking destroy you _ ’ face, and Geralt closed his eyes in defeat. 

He turned to look at Jaskier, who looked both smug and nervous, and it should have made him at least mildly less attractive, that he’d been in cahoots with his child,  _ the traitor, _ behind his back, but honestly: Geralt was impressed. It wasn’t often he was outflanked like this, and Jaskier obviously meant business if he’d reached out for help from someone close to Geralt.

“Alright,” he sighed in defeat. “Just-- come up. You’ve got five minutes.”

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I'm marking it as complete, for now, but I have tentative plans to continue this ;]


End file.
